One Night With My Billionaire Boss

Monday morning arrived with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Hali stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the collar of her thickest, highest cashmere sweater. It was charcoal gray and stiflingly warm for September, but it was the only thing that effectively hid the bruising on her neck.

She applied an extra layer of concealer under her eyes, trying to mask the shadows left by a sleepless weekend. The nausea from the Plan B had settled into a dull, constant ache in her lower abdomen.

She checked her phone. No new messages from Irving since his Sunday night "hope you had a good weekend" text. She hadn't replied.

On the subway ride to Midtown, Hali obsessively refreshed Irving's Instagram. Nothing. His tagged photos were clean. But the doubt planted by Lia's text had taken root and was growing fast.

She swiped her badge at the turnstiles of Gardner Holdings, the beep sounding like an accusation. The lobby was a hive of activity, heels clicking on marble, the hum of ambition and caffeine filling the air.

Hali kept her head down, clutching her coffee cup like a lifeline. She made it to the design department without running into anyone important.

Her cubicle was exactly as she had left it: cluttered with fabric swatches, sketches, and half-finished mood boards. It felt like a different lifetime.

Yara, the department gossip and Hali's work friend, rolled her chair over the moment Hali sat down.

"Oh my god, you look like death," Yara whispered, her eyes wide. "But listen. The rumor mill is on fire."

Hali's heart skipped a beat. She forced a smile, booting up her computer. "What else is new?"

"No, this is big. Someone from the cleaning crew said they found a woman's dress in Ezra's penthouse suite on Saturday morning. Ripped."

Hali's hand jerked, splashing hot coffee onto her wrist. She hissed, grabbing a tissue.

Yara leaned in closer. "They say he took someone home from the gala. Everyone is trying to guess who. Some say it was that model, Kaia. Others think it might be a socialite."

Hali wiped her wrist, her heart pounding against her ribs. "Or maybe a junior assistant who wants to die," she thought.

"Probably a model," Hali said, her voice sounding thin to her own ears.

Just then, Nolan Hayes, the Design Director, swept through the aisles. He paused at Hali's desk, picking up a sketch she had left out-a rough charcoal drawing of a structured bodice.

"Interesting lines, Andrews," Nolan murmured, adjusting his glasses. "Very aggressive. It has a certain... disruptive quality. Reminds me of the avant-garde movement in Berlin."

Hali froze. The blood drained from her face. "Oh, I... I was just doodling. It's nothing."

Nolan hummed, dropping the sketch back onto the desk. "Don't be so modest. I need you in the concept meeting this afternoon. Taking notes. 2 PM."

He walked away before she could protest.

Hali exhaled, sinking into her chair. Being noticed was dangerous. She had to be more careful.

A ping from her computer drew her attention. A small notification box popped up in the bottom right corner of her screen. It was from the company's internal messaging system, Slack.

New Friend Request.

Hali frowned. Who added people as friends on Slack? It was usually automatic.

She clicked the notification.

User: E.G.

Role: CEO

Hali stared at the screen. The avatar was a black square.

Ezra.

Her breath hitched. He was adding her. On the company server. Where IT could see. Where anyone looking over her shoulder could see.

Her mouse hovered over the Accept button. Her finger trembled. This was a power move. He was invading her workspace, reminding her that he was everywhere, asserting his dominance even through a digital screen.

She gritted her teeth. No. She wasn't going to play this game. She wasn't his fiancée. She was his employee.

She moved the cursor to the Decline button and clicked.

Request Declined.

She sat back, her heart racing. She had just rejected the CEO. She was insane. She was going to be fired.

Five minutes passed. Hali tried to focus on a spreadsheet, but the numbers were swimming.

The phone on her desk rang. The shrill sound made her jump.

"Design Department, Hali Andrews," she answered, her voice tight.

"Ms. Andrews," Finley Butler's smooth voice came through the line. "Mr. Gardner would like to see you in his office. Now."

Hali closed her eyes. Of course.

"I'm in the middle of preparing for-"

"Now, Ms. Andrews."

The line went dead.

Hali hung up the phone slowly. Yara was looking at her with pity. "You're getting called to the principal's office? What did you do?"

"Nothing," Hali said, standing up. Her legs felt like jelly.

She walked to the elevator banks, clutching her notebook to her chest. She pressed the button for the penthouse floor.

The ride up was agonizingly fast. The doors opened onto the 45th floor, a space of quiet luxury and terrifying silence.

Finley was seated at his desk outside the double mahogany doors. He looked up, his expression neutral.

"Go right in."

Hali walked to the door and knocked.

"Enter."

She pushed the door open. Ezra was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to her. He was wearing a suit that cost more than her father-if she knew who he was-probably made in a year.

He turned slowly. He held his phone in his hand. The screen was lit up.

Hali stopped in the middle of the room, keeping a safe distance.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Gardner?"

Ezra didn't answer immediately. He walked toward her, his steps slow and deliberate. He stopped two feet away, invading her personal space.

He held up the phone. On the screen was the notification: Hali Andrews declined your request.

He looked at her, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"Is this how you treat your fiancé?" he asked, his voice low and laced with a dangerous calm.

"I'm not your fiancé," Hali whispered, backing up until her heels hit the wood of the door behind her.

Ezra followed, placing one hand on the doorframe above her head, boxing her in. The scent of sandalwood enveloped her again, triggering a sensory flashback to the silk sheets and his warm skin.

"We are negotiating," Ezra said, leaning down until his mouth was inches from her ear. "And declining a friend request is a poor opening move, Hali."